


Heat

by CC99trialanderrorgirl



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Begging, Coming In Pants, Consensual even though Harvey is insisting he can't come in his suit, Crying, Dom!Mike, Frottage, M/M, Mild D/s vibes, Protesting, Sub!Harvey, Submissive Harvey Specter, vague subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 10:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18341963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC99trialanderrorgirl/pseuds/CC99trialanderrorgirl
Summary: Quick Oneshot: Harvey crying because he’s so turned on but he *can’t* come in his suit…Mike makes him anyway.





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended to be entirely consensual, and Harvey's pleas about the suit have more to do with breaking arbitrary rules of propriety than his own actual limits. He's very much turned on and wanting it. That said, please feel free to imagine that they've discussed this scene already (in this version, I imagine it went down something like this: Harvey was sleepy for it, otherwise he wouldn't have let Mike say all those words out loud, but he knew what he was agreeing to...just not the when or where.)

Harvey is pressed up against the wall. The little tabs on the letter boxes that line the mailroom of his condo are digging into his back, but he doesn’t care. Mike is plastered up against him, rutting recklessly, both their suits a rumpled mess. The air is hot, close, almost suffocating.

Harvey is coming undone.

Dimly, he realizes what’s happening, and tries to stop.

“Mike,” he says, and God, his voice sounds wrecked. It’s barely more than a croak. Mike murmers something unintelligible against his ear, keeps kissing and licking the skin there, keeps rutting and rubbing, and Jesus, Harvey can’t withstand much more.

His body is tensing up. _No_. Shit, fuck, shit. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe.

It doesn’t work.

He tries to stave it off, tries to think of baseball stats, of Louis and his cat, but nothing works. Mike is hot and warm and real and nothing can pull his attention away from the moment, even though he’s trying, desperate for distraction. But despite his best efforts, his entire focus is narrowed down to the way Mike’s hard dick is rubbing up against his own, the way the friction of their suit pants somehow adds to it, rather than detracts. Fuck.

He probably can’t stop this from happening.

The realization hits him like a freight train, out of control.

Fuck.

This suit costs $14,000, all totaled. The pants alone are worth around 3K.

Shit.

“Mike, you gotta, I’m gonna-“

Fuck, he can’t get the words out. His hands spasm where he’s got a death grip on Mike’s suit jacket, fingertips digging into Mike’s waist, fabric bunched tight in his palms.

Well, he doesn’t care about _Mike’s_ suit, but _his_ suit…this is a godddamned Tom Ford with custom lapels.

He can’t fucking come in it like a teenager who can’t help himself.

Mike is saying something. Shit. Harvey tries to focus through the haze.

“…know you don’t want to, Harvey,” Mike is saying, “but _you’re_ _gonna_ ,” he says.

“What?” Harvey asks, dazed and turned on.

“I _said_ ,” Mike punctuates his words with redoubled thrusts, “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. You’re _gonna_ come.”

Harvey bites his own lip, hard, and tries not to cry. He’s very far from in control right now, and Mike knows it. The damn puppy presses his advantage, slotting his thigh in between Harvey’s unsteady legs and humping against Harvey’s rather giant erection.

“Fuck,” Harvey chokes out, and the word is torn from somewhere deep inside him.

He’s going to come…this has passed the point of no return.

“Shit, fuck, _Mike_ ,” he says, pleading. “This suits costs fourteen grand.” His voice breaks on the last part. He tries not to notice.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Mike growls the words, and Harvey feels himself start to truly space out, the way he always does before he _explodes_.

“Mike, seriously, I _can’t_ ,” he’s begging now, and he doesn’t even care. “ _Please_ ,” he says. “The pants are worth 3K alone. I can’t…in them…”

Harvey is crying now, he’s somewhat alarmed to note. Or he should be, alarmed that is. But he’s too far gone to feel it. All he feels right now is warm, fuzzy, and fucking desperate to come.

“Please…” he says again, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes.

Mike growls, low and deep in his throat, and _grabs_ Harvey’s hips, thrusting as hard as he is physically able.

Harvey sobs, starts to shake.

“Tom Ford,” he says, and Mike shakes his head, biting Harvey’s neck in reply.

Harvey can hear himself panting, but it’s like it’s far away. It’s like he’s in some kind of dream state. Everything is hot, close, breathless. He’s going to cream his pants. Fucking _God_.

“I fucking love this suit,” is all he can manage before Mike is slamming into him, full force. The back of Harvey’s head hits the mailboxes, but somehow, Mike’s hand is there to cushion the blow. Harvey’s knees are shaking, his vision is tightening, fading out at the edges. He feels his balls draw up, tight and impossibly heavy. He feels like he’s about to die. His hands are turning white where he grips Mike’s blazer. He’s breathing is so fast it’s like he’s barely breathing at all. His whole body starts to tremble, and Mike bites down hard on the lobe of his right ear, and the friction on his cock increases even more, and that’s it, he can’t hold on for one more second, and just like that, Harvey starts to come.

He’ll deny it until the day he dies, but Harvey knows that Mike hears the scream, deep and rough, as Harvey unloads in his too-expensive-for-this slacks.

It feels like it lasts forever. Maybe it’s the thrill of doing something he knows he shouldn’t. Maybe it’s the unexpected role reversal, the high from getting something he secretly craves signed, sealed, and delivered. Maybe it’s Mike. It’s definitely Mike. He knows it is.

“I….” Harvey tries to talk, but Mike shuts him up with a kiss.

“Harvey, _fuck_ ,” Mike says, and he sounds just as wrecked as Harvey feels. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever fucking seen. You…shit,” he says, and drops to his knees.

Unzipping Harvey like his life depends on it, Mike starts cleaning him up – _with his tongue_.  
Harvey, oversensitive and strung out, squirms against the wall and concentrates on breathing through his nose, trying not to collapse or pass out.

“Fuck,” he hears Mike breathe from down below, feels the shudder pass through his body like the orgasm is his own. This time, Harvey does lose the use of his legs, sliding down the wall without his consent to land in a fucked out heap with Mike. He’s still shaking with the aftershocks.

“Goddamn, rookie,” he says, and lets his head tip back against the wall and his eyes fall closed as Mike shudders next to him, gathers them together, and just waits it out for a few beats. Harvey doesn’t know how they’re going to get back upstairs, even though the elevator is just a few paces away. But also, honestly? He doesn’t fucking care.

 

 


End file.
